Namesake
by Mandy of the Amoeba
Summary: The Doctor goes to visit River, seeking her help in locating Clara Oswin Oswald, and finds something entirely unexpected instead. Post-TATM and The Snowmen.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is just for fun; it'll be two chapters, possibly three. AU, in my head, because even though I can't get the idea for this fic out of my head, I don't see such a situation ever being remotely canon.

Set after The Snowmen for the Doctor.

* * *

He stood at River's front door, grinning like an idiot, and immensely pleased with himself that he had found her house on only the second try. Well, maybe the TARDIS had nudged him in the right direction, but he had made some very good conjectures all on his own! It had been months for him since he had seen her; he had tried, really tried, to keep to himself, in spite of the advice of both his Pond women. Then suddenly, he'd met Clara, and lost Clara, and...oh, she was a mystery, and he couldn't wait to figure it out. And River could help him, he just KNEW she could; she was smart, smarter than anyone else he knew (besides himself), and she would help him figure out the mystery of Clara Oswin Oswald.

He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, unsure whether to knock or just sonic his way in. Knocking seemed a bit formal when one was visiting one's wife, but then again, using a sonic screwdriver to enter the home of a woman who was trained as an assassin probably wasn't wise, either.

Deciding it was worth the risk, the Doctor unlocked the door and stuck his head in. "Hi, honey, I'm home!" he called, hoping he was giving enough warning to avoid being shot at.

"And what sort of time do you call this?" a familiar voice answered back, lilting from a room he couldn't see, and he grinned stupidly before making his way towards the sound. He quickly found River in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup.

"Dinner time, from what I can see!" he quipped back merrily, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder. She chuckled warmly, setting the spoon down so she could turn in his arms to face him.

"Who said you're invited?" she asked airily, raising an eyebrow, but there was a playful smirk on her lips. He grinned again, then held her out at arm's length to look at her.

"River, you're wearing an apron," he observed, playfulness replaced by shock. She laughed at him and placed her hands on her hips.

"I suppose I'm not allowed to be domestic occasionally? It's not all shooting aliens and kissing robots, you know. A girl has to eat," she replied, winking at him over her shoulder as she turned back to the stove. He eyed her figure from the back, taking in the dip of her waist where the apron was tied, and he was suddenly reminded of just how long it had been for him since he'd laid eyes on his wife.

"Never said I didn't like it," he replied, reaching his hands out to fiddle with the apron strings. On impulse, he untied it, then slid one hand around her waist underneath the apron's fabric. His other hand reached up to move her curls away from her neck, and he began planting a series of soft, slow kisses moving from her shoulder to just behind her ear. She sighed blissfully, leaning back into his embrace, and his other hand joined the first around her waist, holding her tightly to him. He gently took her earlobe in his mouth and began nibbling lightly, just as one of his hands began to trail down lower across her stomach.

"Sweetie," she said breathlessly, and to his surprise, she stopped his hand's explorations with her own. "Sweetie, it's only been four weeks for me. You know we need to wait six..."

"Six what?" he asked, distracted by the intoxicating smell of her hair and skin. Suddenly, her body went stiff, and loosened his grasp on her, puzzled. She turned to face him again, eyes wide.

"Doctor, when are you? When was the last time you saw me, for you?" she asked, voice suddenly urgent. He frowned, looking a bit put out; truth be told, he didn't want to bring up Manhattan at all, not just yet.

"Is it really that important, River?" he asked crossly, knowing it was a stupid question and not really caring at the moment. "Am I not allowed to visit my wife without...without having to go through all this?" he continued, waving his hand around for emphasis.

"When, Doctor?" she asked again, voice hard, and he sighed, rubbing his hands across his face in frustration. He sighed, realizing there was no point in fighting about this.

"Manhattan," he replied quietly, looking into her eyes to see if there was recognition there. Her face softened, and she instinctively reached a hand up to caress his cheek.

"Oh, my love. I'm sorry. I really am," she whispered, then sighed and shook her head. "But you should go."

"I just got here!" he exclaimed loudly, looking rather hurt at being put out. River opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a long, shrill cry coming from down the hall.

Both their heads turned towards the sound, then back to face each other. Something in the vicinity of acceptance seemed to settle on River's face, and she shook her head.

"Now you've done it," she said; there was no anger in her voice, just resignation. She started off down the hall, calling over her shoulder, "I might have known you would do this completely in the wrong order. But I suppose there's no helping it now. And you did warn me," she added before disappearing into the room that the wailing seemed to be coming from.

"Warn you about what? What have I done? River!" he called, belatedly following her. He rounded the door frame and stopped still, staring. River was standing in front of a crib, bouncing a small, squirming infant in her arms. "What's that?" he blurted out, shocked.

She looked up at him; he was expecting an eye roll and a witty remark, but instead received a patient, somewhat tired smile. The Doctor stood stock-still as River walked up to him, positioning herself so that he could get a good look at the child she was holding. "This," she said softly, looking down at the baby, then up at his face, "is Amelia Rose Song."


	2. Chapter 2

It was like having the wind knocked out of him (which, some part of his brain reasoned, was something River Song had accomplished on several occasions). He stared at her face for a long moment before letting his eyes drift down to the infant she held; the baby had stopped crying and was simply looking at him calmly. He looked at River again, and blurted out the first words that came to his mind:

"River, why on Earth is there a baby in your house?"

There was the eyeroll he had been expecting. "Sweetie, why do you THINK there's a baby in the house?"

"I don't know!" he replied, flustered and waving his hands for emphasis briefly, then jamming them into his pockets. He studied the now-quiet baby again; there was an obvious answer to this, of course, but the obvious answer wasn't supposed to be possible. There had to be another explanation. He hesitated, then asked, "Is...is she yours?"

River chuckled at him. "Let's see. First name Amelia, last name Song, and you really still need to ask that question? Honestly, sweetie, I'm not in the habit of looking after _other_ people's infants."

"Oh." It was all he seemed capable of saying, and he reached one hand up to scratch nervously at his face. "And...and she's...?" He let the question trail off in the air, looking at her in a mix of apprehension and doubt, and River's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Well, of COURSE she's yours, you daft man," she exclaimed; the baby gurgled in her arms. The Doctor's eyes flicked down to the infant, and he grinned stupidly at her.

"I know, it is cool, right?" he said, adjusting his bow tie. River rolled her eyes again fondly, shaking her head.

"Here, you take her," she said, moving to place the baby in the Doctor's arms. He blinked awkwardly for a moment before complying. "She might go back to sleep for a bit before she gets hungry. I've got to finish the soup or it'll scorch." Once the baby was settled again, River leaned over to kiss her forehead before disappearing back to the kitchen.

The Doctor stood there for a moment, carefully cradling the tiny being in his arms as his mind raced. He hadn't held a baby this small since...well, since he'd held his infant wife on Demon's Run. Which wasn't really his wife at all, but a flesh avatar, but the mechanics were still the same, right? But they were just so _small_ when they were this young, with their heads all wobbly, they were so very_ breakable_, and this one seemed _especially_ small, and...and this one was his daughter. His and River's. He swallowed hard.

"Hello," he whispered, moving the blankets she was swaddled in and stepping back into the light of the hallway so he could get a better look at her face. She favored River, that he could already see. Same nose, same perfect mouth, just in miniature. But oh, the hair - it was barely there, of course, the finest whisper over her tiny head, but it was certainly carrot-colored. Just like Amy's. Her tiny pink mouth opened into a yawn, then closed as she drifted back to sleep. He smiled softly, taking the moment to marvel at the perfect child in his arms. He had a thousand questions, of course, and a thousand reasons why this shouldn't have happened, shouldn't even have been _possible_. But somehow, in that one moment, he didn't care about any of the technicalities.

"Amelia Rose Song," he said aloud, trying out the sounds together. The questions in his mind started to trickle back slowly. He wondered briefly if River knew the significance of the middle name, then realized that was a silly question. Of course she did. River knew everything. Especially this later River. Knowing her, she had probably picked it out.

Which led him to another question; how much had he been in this child's life so far? River obviously wasn't surprised to see him at first, so he must have been around. But how much? How could she even be safe here? How could she be safe anywhere? Anyone could come looking for her. He had so many, many enemies who would tear the universe apart to get to a child of his, who would try to do what they did to Melody...

Without realizing it, he had reached the end of the hall, which opened up to the kitchen. At first, he didn't notice River watching him, stove turned off and apron hanging on a hook on the wall. When he did look up, she was standing in front of him, a soft, reassuring smile on her face as she reached up to brush his fringe out of his eyes and smooth her hand across the worried creases in his forehead.

"It'll be fine, my love," she said softly, moving her hand down to cup his face. He licked his lips briefly, eyes flickering between her and their child.

"But River, how...how did this even happen? And don't start into some witty response about 'when a Time Lord and a Time Lady love each other very much', either. Because you _know_ what I mean."

They had never been careful. He remembered, years and years ago, when they had first started being intimate with one another...he had asked if they should be. River had enough Time Lord DNA to make offspring a possibility from that end, so he had asked. That question had led to a rather painful discussion about how, when Kovarian had kidnapped her from university, she'd done the same thing to River as she had to Amy; she had made sure that River would never be able to bear children. The Doctor had, once again, been left with massive feelings of guilt; how else was he going to fail his Pond girls before it was all over?

River looked slightly amused, and he wondered by her expression if he was going to have to explain this back to a younger her at some point later in his time stream. "It's possible. Tubal ligation - " (he winced slightly at the term, recalling the scar on his wife's abdomen from the hack job Kovarian had ordered performed) " - is supposed to be permanent, but...well, miracles happen," she finished with a shrug and a smile.

"Miracles," he echoed, eyes traveling down to little Amelia again - the longer he held her, the more he found he couldn't take his eyes off her. _A Time Lord's body is a miracle_. His wife's voice in his head, echoing from that beach many years ago, when they had destroyed his fake body. "River, how are we keeping her safe? What's the plan, here?"

"You've erased yourself from every database in history and faked your own death. As far as the universe is concerned, you don't exist."

"And how, exactly, is that going to keep her safe?" he demanded.

"No one knows what she is, my love. And there's no one left out there who knows what I am, at least not anyone who is going to be telling," she replied.

"But they still know what _I_ am!"

"And they won't know she's yours."

The words stung, somehow. He stopped, his expression going from a perplexed stare to a dawn of realization to sadness. Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment before he spoke again. "So...you raise her alone, then."

River took a deep breath, then sighed it out. "Yes. Not completely, of course...you'll come visit, you'll be part of her life as much as you can be without drawing too much attention to us. But as far as the rest of society is concerned...yes, I raise her alone."

* * *

A/N: I really do think that Kovarian probably ensured that River couldn't have children (and her telling the Doctor this is a scene I might write someday). For anyone out there wondering, yes, it IS possible for a woman to get pregnant after having her tubes tied. My mother was in her forties, her two children were grown, she had a tubal ligation...and then I came along! So, living proof, right here!


	3. Chapter 3

There was a heavy moment of silence between them before the Doctor cleared his throat, swallowing back a lump he wasn't fully aware existed. "Right, then. That...that makes sense."

It didn't, to him, not really. Not fully. He didn't understand why they couldn't both just stay with him on the TARDIS forever; lots of children were raised on space ships! But something about the look on River's face made it clear that this was a discussion they had already had, for her, and he didn't feel like making her repeat it. He could hear her words echoing back to him again, right after Manhattan..._not all the time_. There was a reason, he knew, and he trusted her.

"Soup's finished," she said, breaking the silence again. Her voice was brisk, no-nonsense, and he had learned by now to leave her alone when she was hiding like this. She moved away from him, towards the cabinets, and after a moment he turned and watched, studying her movements. It took her three tries to find the cabinet with the soup bowls, and another two to find the silverware. It was as if she hadn't quite gotten used to the location of things yet. He frowned slightly.

"River, how long have you lived here?" he asked as she ladled soup into two bowls. He could see her hesitation, even in her turned back.

"Three days," she answered quietly, still not looking at him. When she did turn, it was to flash him a brief, sentimental smile. "She was born on the TARDIS."

Relief flooded through him, a worry he wasn't even aware he was harboring being released; he would be there. He smiled back and took a seat at the table as River placed the soup in front of him. Cullen skink, his favorite. He nestled Amelia more securely in the crook of his arm, picking up the spoon with his free hand. River eyed him, somewhat distrustfully, as if she didn't think he had the coordination to eat and hold a baby at the same time.

"You want me to take her? She's sleeping, she'll probably-"

"No, no, I've got her," he answered quickly, unwilling to let this child out of his sight so soon. River smiled fondly and sat next to him. They ate their soup in silence for a while before he spoke again. "So. Amelia Rose, eh?"

"It had the nicest ring to it," she replied noncommittally, and he briefly wondered just how many other names they would discuss in his future. Of course, now that he already knew the child's name, he supposed all the discussion would be happening on River's end.

"It's not..." He trailed off, unsure of how to ask the question. He knew what he wanted to ask:_ it's not painful naming her after your mother?_ Instead, he changed courses and asked, "We won't...we won't call her Amy, will we?"

"No," River answered quickly, shaking her head. She studied his face for a moment, then smiled. "I know what you're thinking. And no, it's not painful. It's the best way I could think of to honor her," she replied, and he smiled a sad smile in return. "Besides, we promised each other."

"What?"

"When we were little girls together. We promised to name our daughters after each other." He thought he could detect a catch in River's voice, and she cleared her throat, smiling at him with bright eyes. "Amy obviously kept her end of the deal, so I kept mine."

He nodded slightly, eyes traveling down to stare at his soup. Even now, he still forgot that River had known Amy and Rory for almost her entire life. She didn't often talk about those days, growing up in Leadworth alongside her parents, and he understood that; regeneration really did make it feel like you were a brand new person, sometimes. And River had gone through more drastic life changes in her three than he had in all eleven of his so far.

"And Rose?" The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he looked up at her hesitantly, sideways. River smiled warmly.

"Who else, my love?"

He realized suddenly that his spoon was hovering halfway between his mouth and the bowl, so he put it in his mouth quickly. This started a chain reaction; he coughed and spluttered on the too-hot soup, which disturbed the baby sleeping in his arms, which caused her to start whimpering and fussing again. He put the spoon down and carefully adjusted little Amelia so that her head was against his shoulder, tiny chest cradled against his. She quieted down fairly quickly, turning her face to his neck. "It's a good name," he finally responded, voice soft and smiling.

River just smiled in return, and he almost had to look away at the intensity of love shining from her face. It was a whole new kind of love, a warm, burning light that glowed for both him and their daughter. For his part, he was sure he didn't deserve it. A gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach knew that if River were to have a child, it ought to be with someone who would be there, always. Not a Neverland boy who would pop in and out of their lives like the intermittent glow of fireflies in summer. In his mind's eye, a door that he kept closed briefly peeked open, and he saw his wife's face as she wired herself to the Library datacore. How long would that be from now? It was hard enough living with her fate before, but now? He didn't think he could bear it.

A gentle hand on his arm brought him back to his senses, and his eyes flew open; he hadn't even realized he had squeezed them shut. When he looked at River, her face was full of understanding, even though she_ couldn't_ understand.

"She'll be all right, my love." The sentence was barely above a whisper, but it seemed absolutely sure. River's thumb moved back and forth on his forearm as he cradled their infant.

"How do we know that?"

To his surprise, River chuckled. "That's a spoiler that you're going to get very soon. Just trust me for now, hmm?"

He looked at her eyes, twinkling merrily at him, and he couldn't help but grin in return. "Now, wife…where's the fun in that?"


	4. Chapter 4

The next River he saw hadn't even gotten to Manhattan yet, although he suspected she wasn't far from it; she had already been pardoned and was Professor Song. A part of him was glad he had met their child before seeing this River; the memory of little Amelia's hand curling around his finger was enough to keep the demons at bay whenever River had asked if her parents were on board the TARDIS.

They went on what started as a lovely, peaceful outing…until River mouthed off to an already-cross pair of Judoon. The Doctor expected no less of her, really. After that, they'd spent nearly two days holed up in the ship together, venturing out once for an ice cream sundae from a particular shop in Leadworth that River insisted was the best in the universe. He would have been content to let those two days turn into two weeks, but she eventually said that if she didn't get back to the university soon, all her lecture notes would fly right out of her head. He'd made a scathing comment about archaeology in reply, but set them back on course nonetheless.

He had intended to land them just outside River's office, but when he poked his head out of the doors, he found they were in the middle of the campus quad.

"Er…may have overshot, a bit," he called over his shoulder into the TARDIS, giving a hesitant wave to a couple of students who had stopped to gape at the magically materialized telephone box. He was just about to step back inside and shut the door when a nearby shout stopped him.

"Oi!" The voice was close by, and the Doctor turned to see a red haired girl with a bookbag slung over one shoulder jogging towards the TARDIS with a big grin on her face. "What're you doing here? Coming to check up on me?"

He stared, dumbfounded; this was her. He knew, somehow, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was his daughter; she was tall and slim, not as curvy as her mother, but with River's nose and Amy's hair and his own eyes and something of Rory's chin about her – how did that even work, her inheriting things from her grandparents when River had been through two regenerations? - and she was grinning at him with his wife's smile, only it was crinkling around the corners of her face the way his own smile did, and _oh_, she was a beautiful, _beautiful _creature, his girl.

But River was calling, "Sweetie?" from within the TARDIS, and his daughter heard the voice, and in the blink of an eye the smile vanished, replaced by a look of such intense longing and sadness that both his hearts constricted painfully. The image of River wiring herself into the Library mainframe flashed across his mind unbidden; just as surely as he knew this was his daughter, he knew that, for her, River was already gone. He suddenly wanted to reach out, to hold this child he didn't really know yet, but almost as quickly as it appeared, the pained expression was replaced by a carefully constructed mask of calm that was nearly identical to the one he'd seen River put on for so many years.

He opened his mouth to say something, to explain or reassure or at least introduce, for heaven's sake, but then River was shouldering him out of the TARDIS doorway and rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Sweetie, you've got to be almost a quarter-century off; that bell tower won't be built until..." River trailed off, noticing that the Doctor's eyes were still locked on the girl standing off to the side of the ship; for her part, the girl was staring at River, a shimmer in her green eyes the only thing giving her away. There was a moment of awkward silence; however, the last Time Lord was exceptionally good at breaking silences.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor," he blurted out suddenly, extending his hand rather abruptly towards his daughter. Breaking silences, yes; averting awkwardness, not so much. Still, the spell was broken, and the girl – Amelia, she had a name, he knew that - laughed softly, shaking her head.

"Yes, you are. And you're also somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years beyond where you'd intended to be, I'd wager," she quipped back cheekily. Ignoring the hand, she reached out and wrapped her arms around him in a brief, firm squeeze before turning to River, who was looking on a bit warily. After a slight hesitation, she carefully hugged River as well; River threw a bewildered glance at the Doctor, but returned the hug gingerly. Amelia kissed her mother's cheek, gave her a fond smile, then turned and walked away.

"What was that about?" River asked; the Doctor was already ushering her back into the TARDIS. He shut the doors behind them, smiling fondly at his wife and forcing himself not to dwell on all the pain that lay in his future; she was alive, here and now, and he would let himself dwell once she was gone.

"Spoilers."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Well, this was going to be a three-chapter fic. It's up to five, and I have at least three more chapters in my head, so...we'll just have to wait and see how long this goes. I teach children for a living, and crying infants apparently make me write stories.

Also, POV slightly switches in this; it starts out third-person limited from the Doctor's side of things, then switches to River's side...well, mostly. I'm sort of toeing the line between limited and omniscient. We'll see if it works.

* * *

"Right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment."

~The Time Traveler's Wife

* * *

The Doctor wasn't getting anywhere with his pet project. Clara Oswin Oswald still hadn't turned up anywhere, and it was beginning to be annoying. Of course, he wasn't focusing all his time on her, not now – he still had time left with River, and he wasn't about to forget that, not until...well, he wasn't exactly sure what the 'until' was. He would know, somehow, when it was time for Darillium. And it wasn't time, not yet.

Another dead end had been followed to its conclusion when he felt a familiar burn in his breast pocket; he eagerly whipped out the psychic paper, hoping for some sort of excitement, but his expression turned grim at the simple words in all-too-familiar handwriting:

_Please help me._

There was no signature kiss at the end of the message, which was worrisome. There were at least a dozen different reasons she might have left it off, but none of them could possibly be good. He shoved the paper back into his pocket and dithered around the console for a moment; there was no indication of where River needed help from, nor at what point in time. He growled in frustration and hit his hand against the console; the TARDIS hummed in annoyance.

"Well, I'm SORRY, but she could be ANYWHERE, couldn't she? AnyTIME. And I know you're good, and all, but really, dear, are you able to – oh, hang on," he said, interrupting his own babbling as the paper burned again; this time, it had a date and coordinates. "Oh, right. Clever woman." The TARDIS made a noise that somehow managed to sound proud as he keyed in the coordinates; she was always proud of her child.

Once the ship landed, the Doctor opened the door to find himself in River's backyard. Their backyard, he supposed, since this was the only place besides the TARDIS that had sort of been...theirs. Would be theirs. He hadn't lived most of that, yet, but had a feeling this was a place he spent a good deal of time, since this was where River and Amelia were-

His train of thought only lasted three seconds before he realized that there was a baby wailing, loudly and unceasingly, inside the house. It was the kind of pitiful cry that only young infants make, and he panicked slightly; something was wrong, and he had a sinking feeling that it was wrong with River.

Screwdriver at the ready, he burst through the backdoor and down the hall towards the crying. He careened around the corner, grabbed hold of the nursery doorway and swung himself into the room...and came incredibly close to barreling into his wife.

"River! What's going on? I got your message, it sounded...urgent..." He trailed off, suddenly unsure as he looked at River's face; he had seen that face with a variety of emotions on it that most people didn't even possess, but he had never, not once in all the time he had known her, seen her look so..._frazzled_. It wasn't just the messy, frizzy ponytail or the short bathrobe that had an obviously recent coffee stain on one sleeve or the dark circles under her teary eyes; there was a sort of desperation in her expression that he'd never seen before.

"She won't _stop_," River blurted out, referring to the wailing infant she was bouncing gently in her arms. "It's been three hours, and she _won't stop_, she won't _sleep,_ she ate a little but it _still_ didn't fix anything-"

Relief flooded through him, and he pulled his wife into his arms, Amelia still crying between them. No wonder she needed help. It wasn't the action-packed, high-stakes, universe-in-the-balance sort of help he was used to giving...and, truth be told, he had much more experience with that sort of help than with infant-care. But he could do this, he knew he could; he could be a husband and a daddy, at least for a short while. He kissed her forehead gently before pulling away.

"Give me two minutes. Can you hang in there for two more minutes?" he asked seriously, cupping her tired face in his hands and searching her eyes. She nodded quickly, fighting back tears, and he disappeared down the hall.

* * *

One minute and fifty-three seconds later, he reappeared in the doorway. "Give her here," he said gently, holding his hands out. River gently placed the still-sobbing baby in his arms, and he kissed her forehead again once she had done so. "The TARDIS is in the backyard. First hall on the right, first door you come to. Take as long as you need."

There wasn't even the pretense of protest; River simply nodded wearily and left the room.

Stepping into the TARDIS was an immediate balm to her nerves; the sense of calm and comfort that washed over her was so much, she was tempted to sink down to the floor right there and have a good cry. Instead, she took a deep breath and made her way down the hall; it was only a few short steps to the first door, and she opened it without hesitation.

One fist pressed against her mouth briefly as she looked around; it was a bathroom, her favorite one on the ship, moved closest to the door just for her. Candles were everywhere, casting a peaceful glow on the tile. Faint steam was still rising from the newly-drawn bath, and the scent of her favorite bath oil drifted from the water. Fluffy white bath sheets were stacked on a chair beside the tub, and a fresh nightgown and robe hung on a hook nearby. At the opposite end of the room was a door ajar; she could see their bedroom on the other side, also bathed in candlelight, and she wanted to weep at the sheer thoughtfulness of it all.

"That impossible man," she whispered aloud, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes; for all the times he could be an insensitive, socially awkward, overgrown child, there were times that he knew _exactly_ what to do to make her happy. For another moment, she simply took it all in; then she eagerly stripped down and sank into the bath.

She really wasn't sure how long she stayed there; TARDIS bathtubs were programmed to not let the water grow cold, so she could theoretically stay for hours (not that she'd manage to keep awake that long at this point). The pads of her fingers and toes were decidedly shriveled when the door leading to the bedroom was gently pushed open, and she looked up to see the Doctor entering, sans jacket...and sans infant.

"She's sleeping," he explained before she had a chance to ask. "And no, I didn't leave her in the house alone. The TARDIS was kind enough to add a little nursery off of the bedroom." River smiled at that; the nursery had been there since Amelia was born, in her timeline. The Doctor dithered in the doorway for a moment, hestitating. "Do you...was this...I can leave you alone for a bit longer, if you like," he bumbled.

"Wash my hair for me?" she asked, and his nod was almost relieved; he hastily removed his wristwatch and began rolling up his shirtsleeves. River let herself sink a little lower in the water, her wild hair fanning out around her head like a halo. The Doctor sat on the wide ledge surrounding the tub and reached his fingers towards her head.

"It's a bit like seaweed, isn't it?" he observed, his tone admiring as he tried to work his fingers through the wet tangles, and she stared at him in shock for a moment before bursting out laughing. He blinked at her, wide-eyed.

"You certainly know how to sweet talk a girl," she teased once her laughter died down. He frowned and opened his mouth to reply before she cut him off. "Just get the shampoo, sweetie. And if it's at all possible, try not to talk too much."

He saluted with the hand that had just been in the water, causing water droplets to fly in his face, and she chuckled again at his resulting expression. Still, he eventually got to the shampooing part, and she closed her eyes in bliss as his long fingers worked through her curls. All the tender, romance-y sort of stuff was like riding a bike for him...a very large bike with wonky brakes and somewhat faulty steering that he was always slightly apprehensive about getting on, but once he got started, he was actually quite good at riding.

For a few minutes, he managed to keep quiet, and River relaxed into the touch of his hands against her scalp. When he spoke again, she was growing drowsy, and the words seemed too loud in the stillness.

"How long have I been gone?"

She took a deep breath, more to refocus herself than anything else. Eyes still closed, she managed not to sound _too_ sleepy as she answered, "Not long. Three days."

"Ah." He was quiet a moment more, fingers still working, then asked, "How long has she been crying like that?"

Her eyes opened, and there was the barest hint of fear in them as she asked, "Why? Is something-"

"No no no, nothing's wrong," he cut her off hastily, "she's all right. Just colic, it seems. My..." He trailed off, his gaze wandering away from her's, focusing on some distant point hundreds of years behind him, and she knew. He didn't talk about them, not even to her, but she knew. No matter how unsure and bumbling she'd already seen him be when it came to babies, he'd been a father before.

"Good." She was giving him an out, not making him finish the thought he had begun. She would have listened if he had ever wanted to, of course, but she doubted that day would come. There were things they would never really speak of with one another, things in both their pasts that were better left buried.

There was a handheld shower hose attached to the wall; the Doctor reached for it with one hand and tapped her shoulder lightly with the other. River sat up enough for her hair to leave the water, shivering slightly as the cool air hit her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. He rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, and she took a moment to enjoy the water raining down on her before reaching to pull the tub's stopper. He helped her stand as the water began to drain, rinsing off the rest of her body before shutting off the hose and grabbing a towel. She stepped into it, tucking it around itself; he already had the towel in hand, but he handed it to her to let dry her own hair. She had let him dry it, once, and the resulting tangles required a second shower.

Realizing he was rather useless for the rest of the whole 'getting ready for bed' routine, the Doctor wandered off to their bedroom. River emerged a few minutes later, damp hair combed and already springing back into wild curls. He was in bed already, wearing blue and white striped pajamas, and she wanted to laugh at how horribly domestic they looked: he in his pajamas and she in her knee-length nightgown with matching robe. At least the set was silk, and their bedroom ceiling on the TARDIS was a magnificent projection of the universe instead of popcorn stucco.

She had just snuggled up against his side under the covers when Amelia began to whimper, then to wail. River groaned, burying her face against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head.

"I'll get her," he said, already climbing out of bed. With some reluctance, River pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"Bring her here; she's hungry," she called after him, and sighed, adjusting the pillows behind her back. Motherhood was a challenge, new and scary and unfamiliar...not to mention totally unexpected. She'd never, ever thought she'd be a mother; she liked children well enough, but she really didn't know much about them. It wasn't as though she'd had much of a childhood herself, not until she found Amy and Rory, and even then she'd had far too much life experience to really be a child. It seemed ironic that the Doctor, well past his thousandth year of life, could be more childlike than she...then again, he could also be more deadly.

But when he stepped into the room with their child in his gangly arms, he wasn't the childlike, deadly Time Lord, the last of his kind. For a moment, at least, he looked like any other perfectly ordinary father, and warmth flooded through her tired frame as he transferred Amelia into her waiting arms. He settled back in beside her as she pulled down the front of her gown to let the baby nurse.

The TARDIS hummed gently in approval as the little family lay together in a bed under stars in a time-traveling spaceship parked in their backyard. Just an ordinary night.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews; there's a possibility this will be finished by the weekend. I'd almost rather it be done before the finale, actually; I don't KNOW what's going to happen, but I have a sinking feeling I'm going to explode from feels and sadness. This could either lead to wanting to write ALL THE ELEVEN/RIVER I can, or not wanting to write at all. We shall see. Fingers crossed, everyone.

* * *

"I_wanted someone to love who would stay: stay and be there, always. And I wanted him to be in this child, so that when he was gone, he wouldn't be entirely gone, there would be a bit of him with me..."_

_~The Time Traveler's Wife_

* * *

Their timelines still refused to line up in any sort of sensible order. For a long time, they'd lived their lives almost back-to-front; now, the Doctor found himself bouncing between the River who was mother to Amelia Song and the River who was still unsuspecting daughter of Amy Pond. So far, he'd only come across a pregnant River once; she'd yelled at him, cried, kissed him, and finally told him to leave and come back once he wasn't so thick, and for god's sake, pick up a pregnancy book. He didn't understand; all he'd done was offer to share a plate of soft cheeses.

Still, even he would admit that, in spite of his extensive knowledge, he wasn't really that versed in pregnancy. He'd had children, centuries ago on Gallifrey, but Time Lord culture hadn't really encouraged males to take active roles in pregnancy after conception. Of course he'd interacted with pregnant women (he'd even had to deliver a baby in an emergency involving a stuck lift and an approaching army on Leophantos), but he hadn't been married to any of those women. And _none_ of those women had been River Song.

So it was an attempt to placate his wife (and prepare himself for their next encounter) that led him to be sitting on a bench in 21st century London, Amy's reading glasses perched on his nose as he frowned at the book in his hand. Half a dozen more were stacked on the bench beside him, and his expression kept switching from fascinated to disgusted to confused. The disgust, admittedly, was less about the actual aspects of delivery and more about the...the sickening things he was apparently supposed to say to and do for his pregnant wife. So much of the advice was far too humany; he loved humans, but...well, he and River were not humans. And the planning! These books advised so much planning, and they weren't really prone to planning ahead. Plans just sort of...happened! It had worked so far in their relationship.

"Help her pack a bag for the hospital stay – well, that's rubbish, she'll be on the TARDIS," he mused aloud, tossing the book to the side. The action knocked the pile over, scattering books on the ground, and he fumbled as he tried to stop the avalanche. He managed to grasp one book before tripping over his own feet and landing sprawled out on the path in front of him. Looking up, he saw a pair of women's trainers come to an abrupt halt just in front of him.

"Hello, sweetie."

His eyes traveled up a set of familiar calves, hips, waist, breasts, settling on the magnificent mane of hair that belonged to River Song. He shot to his feet.

"River! Hello, I was just..." He trailed off, swiftly hiding the book in his hand behind his back and trying to surreptitiously shove the others under the bench, but River was already looking at them, and titles such as "The Expectant Father" and "What to Expect When Your Wife is Expanding" were glaring up at them in big, bold, friendly letters. Both of them slowly raised their gaze to one another, and the look on River's face...she'd gone sort of pale, lips parted in shock and...something else. Trepidation, perhaps. He panicked silently to himself; she didn't know, she wasn't pregnant yet, and here he'd gone and let an absolutely enormous spoiler fall right off a park bench at her feet. There was a moment of tense silence, then they both spoke at once:

"River, I can explain-"

"Suppose I shouldn't worry about how to tell you, then."

Her voice was the louder of the two, and he froze, staring at her. He looked her over, really _looked_ at her, and realized that she had been running, and she had been crying. He wasn't sure which had come first, though both had stopped now. They held each other's gaze for a long, wordless moment before River broke the spell by stooping to help pick up his books; he jolted into action, kneeling on the ground and stacking the books on one corner of the bench. They completed the task without speaking, and sat next to one another on the bench when they were through. They sat close, scrunched up together as far from the stack of books as they could get. He was the one to finally break the silence.

"How long?"

River took a deep breath before answering, "About seven weeks in. I found out this afternoon."

He nodded, then frowned and asked, "But why are you in 21st century London?" She smiled softly at that, a sad look in her eyes.

"Why are you, my love?"

His hearts sank; he had come here because it was Rory and Amy's time...had been, before they'd gotten misplaced in the wrong time and the wrong country. He'd picked a year when they were still living in London, unwilling to cross his own timeline by seeking them out directly but still secretly hoping they would just walk by so he could see them, maybe even talk to them about this.

"Did you...do your parents know?"

"I've told Amy. Dad wasn't home; I said I was going out for a run and then I'd come home for dinner and tell him then."

"You didn't tell me first?"

River hesitated a long moment before answering, and the words were quiet but clear when she spoke:

"I wasn't sure I was going to tell you at all."

He blinked at her, shocked into silence for a moment; it had never occurred to him that she would have tried to hide their child from him. Surely she had to know that he would find out? Unless – another thought occurred to him, a thought that was awful now that he'd already held their daughter in his arms, and he cleared his throat before speaking hesitantly.

"Are you...do you want to...it's...it's your choice, River," he finally settled on, the words sticking in his throat and releasing with difficulty. She turned her head sharply towards him.

"Of course I'm having it," she snapped, but her expression softened quickly as she reached a hand to touch his cheek. "How could I not?"

He smiled briefly, turning his face to kiss her palm before taking her hand in his. They sat in companionable silence on the bench together for a moment, hand in hand, still pressed far away from the stack of daddy-to-be books as though they were something alive and somewhat unpleasant. Finally, River gingerly reached out for the top book with her free hand, flipping it over to read the back cover. She recoiled slightly at the horrifying cartoon image of an infant drawn on the back.

"They all seem a bit rubbish," the Doctor confessed, shrugging his shoulders a bit. River sighed as she replaced the book, and he frowned in response; River would normally have laughed at that.

"I don't know the first thing about babies," she confessed, her hold on his hand tightening slightly. "And...I came to see Amy, because she's my mother, and this is something you're supposed to talk with your mother about, it's something I need to talk with her about, but..." She paused, taking a deep breath before finishing, "I feel guilty."

"Don't," he began, but River was already rushing on.

"It isn't fair, is it? Amy and Rory, they wanted a baby. They had their baby stolen from them...and...I don't know anything about children. I _like_ children. I just...I didn't think I _wanted _one." There were tears tracking down her cheeks now; she untangled her hand from his to wipe her face, and laughed thickly. "And I'm being absolutely ridiculous, and I know that, it's just...I keep _crying_ over things!" She punctuated the word 'crying' by slamming her fist onto his thigh, and he winced slightly.

"If you're going to be like this for the next nine months, I'm going to have to start wearing padding," he joked, hoping it was the right response. She whacked him on the arm in response, laughing...then her face crumbled and she began crying again through the laughter. He quickly moved his arm around her shoulder, hugging her to his side and shushing her softly. "River, River...hey, now. Look at me," he said, shifting so that he could tilt her chin up with one hand. "You're going to be a wonderful mother. I know."

"Spoilers," she replied, giving him a watery smile.

"Nonsense, that's what all good husbands tell their pregnant wives. The books say so," he retorted, nodding towards the pile. "It's not my fault that I happen to know for a fact I speak the truth."

River's eyes lit up just slightly in hope, and his hearts ached at the beautiful, tearful mess she was. "So you...you've seen her, then?"

"Yes," he whispered conspiratorially, as if passers-by would tell on them. "And she's – wait, hang on, how did you know it was a girl?" he asked abruptly, frowning. River's smile took on a wicked tone.

"I didn't. But you just confirmed it anyhow...spoilers, sweetie," she chided, slightly sing-song. She snuggled against his side, and he was suddenly very glad he'd spoiled that for her; she seemed calmer, now. Happier. Tentatively, she moved her hand to rest against her still-flat stomach, and he instinctively laid his hand atop hers. Sighing softly, she let her head drop down to his shoulder.

"She's as beautiful as her mother," he whispered into her hair, and he could practically feel her smile as she shifted her hand to lace her fingers through his.

"And I'll always have a part of you with me." The words were barely audible; he wasn't even sure she intended to speak them aloud.

The Doctor's eyes grew distant for a moment. He wanted to reassure her, wanted to tell her that he would always be with her anyway, but they both knew it wasn't true. There were a lot of difficult conversations to come, he knew; at the forefront of his mind was one he already knew the outcome of. At some point, they would make the decision that, as far as the outside world was concerned, River would raise their child on her own. He would never be the sort of father to take Amelia to soccer practice or dance class; he would not attend a single parent-teacher conference, or sit in an auditorium holding River's hand while watching a school play. They would never be a family that fit the definition of 'normal'.

But they would be a family.


	7. Drabbles

A/N: First, and most importantly...I am very much still dying of feels. No spoilers for anyone who hasn't watched yet, but let's just say I keep watching the same three minutes of The Name of The Doctor over and over again and crying. I'm a silly little ninny, but it's SUCH GOOD FEELS.

Ahem. Anyway. This chapter is a series of drabbles; I had several little scenes in my head that I knew wouldn't get fleshed out enough to make whole chapters, so I challenged myself to write each of them in EXACTLY 100 words. No more, no less. It was a fun goal to achieve.

There will be more actual chapters soon; right now I'm rendered incapable by feelings.

Enjoy!

* * *

I.

He found her fretting in front of a mirror. The archaeology department had an annual banquet/party (he hadn't believed archaeologists knew how to party, excepting his wife, but that didn't stop the banquet from happening) and the close-fitting dress she'd put on had become a little too close-fitting, especially since she hadn't told anyone in her department she was expecting yet. She kept turning around in the mirror, frowning and complaining about her growing figure being unattractive.

He'd shown her exactly how attractive she was and had to take her to the party in the TARDIS to avoid being late.

* * *

II.

"I don't know any lullabies," she'd confessed to him one night when the subject came up. Of course she wouldn't – none had ever been sung to her, except for Kovarian's awful, sing-song prophecy. She tried to keep her voice neutral instead of sad, but he knew her well enough now to see when pain over her lost childhood was seeping through, and it broke his hearts. So he held her against him, her back against his chest and his hands resting on her swollen abdomen, and he'd sung "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" to her and their child.

* * *

III.

"Practice!" he had said enthusiastically, and she rolled her eyes.

"Sweetie, I'm all for practicing _making_ babies, but...do I really need to practice_ holding_ one?" she responded. She wasn't even beginning to show yet.

"We'll start with an older one, they're not so terrifying."

Fifteen minutes later, River was holding Alfie in her lap, listening to Sophie recommend pacifiers while Craig showed the Doctor how to play his new video game. After another fifteen minutes, the Doctor was promising to buy a new controller, and Alfie was asleep against River's chest.

She could get used to this.

* * *

IV.

Normally, he tried not to cheat. But when a heavily pregnant River began worrying over not having a house yet ('nesting', the books called it, but that only made him think of her hair), he'd skipped ahead and bought the house he knew she would call home. She wept when he surprised her with it; a weeping River was still strange to him, even after several months of hormones, but he took it in stride and kissed away her tears before making love to her carefully in the room that would be hers, and sometimes theirs, but never really his.

* * *

V.

There was no such thing as 'middle of the night' on the TARDIS, but there was a such thing as sleeping. He didn't need sleep, but he liked to when River was around; they kept each other's nightmares at bay. So, at a time that was as much 'middle of the night' for them as anything, she woke him to beg for ice cream and chips; the chips _had_ to come from Calderon Beta, and the ice cream from Leadworth, and that was that.

Part of him relished the small moments when their relationship seemed so very normal and human.

* * *

VI.

River insisted they be 'practical' about baby things. She made him take back the giant stuffed giraffe ("She already has a giraffe for a father!" "Oi! Rude!") and the teapot chandelier ("But it's polka-dotted, River!"). She relented on the 'bigger-on-the-inside' toy chest and reluctantly agreed the bouncy castle could make an appearance again at a future birthday party.

When she bought a tiny, far-too-expensive dress in TARDIS blue, he thought he'd get to tell her she wasn't being practical, for a change.

The soft little smile on her face as she ran her fingers over the fabric stopped him.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long to update; I kept being unhappy with what I tried writing (plus I lost a couple tries due to not saving smartly). This whole thing has gone an entirely different direction than I originally intended, and as a result, progress has slowed.

Also, I have a feeling this entire thing might go through a rewrite, partly because I don't like the beginning anymore since TNOTD aired, and partly due to the fact that I just found out I'm pregnant. I don't know for sure that being pregnant myself will make me change anything, but it could.

(Fun fact: husband and I are actually considering River for a girl's name).

(Another fun fact: husband is entertaining himself by blowing bubbles in our bedroom, hence the inspiration for this chapter).

* * *

Bubbles

* * *

Being married to the Doctor was sometimes like being married to a child, River thought fondly as she stepped out of her heels she'd worn to the wedding – Craig and Sophie's wedding, to be precise. They had finally decided to make the leap, because in reality, it did mean more than 'just a piece of paper', and of course the Doctor wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Of course, he _had_ almost missed it; the TARDIS had landed in the church vestibule about ten minutes after the ceremony had started, he and River had entered arguing about coordinates, and the entire congregation had craned their necks back to look at them as they entered; Craig and Sophie just stood at the front, trying to suppress their grins, and two-year-old Alfie in his tiny tux had to be stopped from running down the aisle towards them.

The reception had been lovely, although at twenty weeks pregnant, River was irritated that she couldn't drink the champagne, especially since her husband seemed to be imbibing more than his share ("River, why don't we drink more champagne? It's much better than wine!" / "We have mimosas at breakfast fairly often, sweetie." / "...mimosas have champagne in them?"). Still, they had laughed and danced until only a few guests remained, and River had wearily dragged her husband to the hotel room Craig had booked for them. It was for the best; letting him fly the TARDIS in this state was probably not an ideal plan.

"River! River, let's get married more," the Doctor was exclaiming as River wordlessly turned her back and indicated for him to unzip her, which he did without thinking.

"Sweetie, we've already been married fifteen times on eleven different planets. Sixteen if you count the first, which wasn't even in this reality," River responded, sliding the dress down to the floor and stretching with a soft groan.

"But we've never had bubbles at any of our weddings!" he responded, waving a miniature tube of bubbles at her for emphasis. They had been given out as favors at the wedding; thankfully, the Doctor had managed to not notice them until towards the end. Eyeing the tube in his hand, he quickly uncorked it with the air of a scientist about to make a great discovery, then held the wand up to the light. "There isn't nearly enough bubble-blowing in the universe."

"Mmm-hmm," River murmured, stretching out wrong-ways on the bed to rest her stocking-clad feet on the pillows. The Doctor blew experimentally at the wand, sending a cascade of bubbles whirling, drawn by the eddies of air made by a fan spinning lazily in the fixture overhead.

"River! In all my life, I've never been to a planet full of bubbles. D'you think there could be a planet _MADE_ of bubbles?"

"Bubbles are made of soap, dear. The planet would pop." Another whirl of bubbles spun round in the air, and she lazily reached a hand up to bat at them.

He paused, lips pursed; she couldn't help but love him in all his alcohol-induced silliness. "But it could be a different kind of bubble," he insisted after a moment's thought, then concentrated on his bubble wand again; he seemed to be trying to blow as big of a bubble as possible, but the air from the fan was hindering his efforts.

"I'm sure it could, sweetie," River replied, barely stifling a yawn. The bed shifted as he climbed onto it; she peered down to see him crouched beside her, apparently attempting to blow a bubble that would match the size of her swollen belly. "Oi!"

"What?" he asked, glancing up and looking genuinely confused as to what he'd done wrong. "Oh, don't worry, I've got more if this runs out," he reassured quickly, reaching into his pockets; at least a dozen bubble tubes spilled out.

"Good lord, did you take all of them?" she exclaimed, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Don't be silly, River. I just took all the ones that hadn't been claimed yet. We were the last ones on the dance floor," he reminded her, and she sank back down on the bed.

"Yes, sweetie, I'm well aware," she murmured tiredly, but he was already blowing bubbles up at the fan again. A few moments of peaceful silence passed, broken only by the steady whir of the fan, the soft plastic click of the wand dipping back into the soap, and a quiet whoosh of air every time he exhaled another round of bubbles.

Suddenly, River propped up on one elbow, her other hand flying to her stomach; the Doctor instantly sobered. "River? What is it, what's – "

"Shhh," she interrupted, wide-eyed. She was silent in concentration for a long moment; he corked the bubbles up and deposited them on the nightstand, eyeing his wife with concern. A slow grin began to spread across her face. "Here," she whispered, taking his hand and placing it where hers had been.

After a moment, a faint flutter moved under his hand; he raised his eyes to hers, and a matching grin stole over his features. Gently, he moved his face to her belly, resting his cheek against the spot where the movement had been. "Hello, baby," he murmured quietly before planting a kiss against her skin.

Smiling softly, she drew him up to lay beside her, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her as close as he could, bubbles forgotten.


End file.
